


constructive criticism

by rqtheory



Series: hold it, hold it, hold it steady [9]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Masochism, d/s dynamics, it's a sex game now sorry, vicious mockery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqtheory/pseuds/rqtheory
Summary: “Look atyou,” Brad says, voice sing-song. He immediately zeroes in on the sound, the shape of the words pressing into his bare shoulders, making him shiver. Brad hadn’t even used the cantrip but Taako could hear the smirk in his voice. And then, “Do you feel good like that, lovely?” and oh, there it is, that silvery biting edge to the words, and his immediate reaction is to resist but he manages to pull back on it just at the last second and they hit.





	constructive criticism

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite self-indulgent for me and I'm the kind of person who'll eat three cheese gnocchi out of the pan while binge-watching Outlander, soooo.
> 
> Please heed the tags!

Taako is kneeling on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. He can hear the crackle and pop of the flames licking over the new log they’d just put on, smell the faintest trace of woodsmoke. The heat of the fire is warm on his feet and arms and back, and the satin ties are a comforting pressure on his wrists where they rest in the small of it. He notices all of these things with greater immediacy and intensity than usual, because there’s nothing to distract him from them, because he can’t see. The blindfold is just as firm as the wrist bindings.

A finger trails down his spine, drifting away just as it reaches his hands, and Taako bites down on a small noise. He’s barely even been _touched_  yet, this is ridiculous, he’s not going to-

“Look at _you_ ,” Brad says, voice sing-song. He immediately zeroes in on the sound, the shape of the words pressing into his bare shoulders, making him shiver. Brad hadn’t even used the cantrip but Taako could hear the smirk in his voice. And then, “Do you feel good like that, lovely?” and oh, there it is, that silvery biting edge to the words, and his immediate reaction is to resist but he manages to pull back on it just at the last second and they hit. Not hard, but enough to hurt, just a little. He breathes out hard through his nose, and Brad laughs at him, a soft, velvety chuckle which feels just as real on his skin as the strip of fabric over his eyes. A palm skates over his shoulders and Brad leans in from behind him and says, “You _look_  good,” directly into his ear, voice low. He can’t repress a shudder as it thrums through him and he squirms, twisting without meaning to towards - he can feel the warmth radiating off Brad, a different quality to the fireplace, milder, more solid. And he can- _smell_ him, he realises, the faint citrus-and-cedar of their fancy shower gel over the earthier scent he recognises as just _Brad_ , along with- arousal, from both of them. That last makes his mouth water on instinct and his cheeks heat, caught in a feedback loop of his own physical reactions because he can’t focus on anything except how it _feels_ -

Brad laughs again, and it’s _mean_ this time and Taako feels just the smallest bit breathless. “So worked up already,” he says, mock-disappointed. “Somehow I thought you’d be better at this.”

He’s so far into his own head this time that he doesn’t even think to resist and the cantrip hits him full force, flaring hot like being spanked - and the thought of that makes him dizzily, achingly aroused - but all over, racing down his spine and making his dick throb. He can’t stifle the moan this time, doesn’t bother, and a comforting hand somewhat at odds with this whole situation runs briefly down his arm.

He gets himself under control enough to mutter “You’re a real fucker, you know that?” and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling when he hears the faint noise of Brad squashing down his own laugh. A large hand slides up the nape of his neck into his hair and grips, hard, pinprick pain pulling at his scalp.

“Would you like to repeat that?” Brad asks him, voice scrubbed of all amusement, cool and glossy like the surface of a still pond.

Taako pauses, and then says, “No?”

“Good choice,” Brad says, and then leans in and tugs sharply with his hand as he adds “ _Coward_ ,” and the cantrip hits Taako again, unexpectedly this time. He gasps out loud and strangles down a protest, determined not to fall at the first damn hurdle. He feels Brad manoeuvring around him, and the warmth at his back suddenly drops off as the orc settles into place between him and the fire.

The hand in his hair loosens and slides back down to his shoulder, the other coming up to mirror it, and Brad digs his thumbs underneath Taako's shoulder-blades and drags up and back. It's just this side of painful, harsh and unrelenting, but the warmth and the low-grade fatigue suffusing his limbs mean he goes molten and boneless anyway, tipping slowly backwards until his head is leaning against Brad's chest.

"You're much nicer when you're keeping your smart mouth to yourself," Brad comments, and Taako wants to tell him to fuck off, but he follows up with a mockery-drenched "gorgeous," and a firm hand sliding up Taako's abdomen and he squirms again instead, lips parting of their own accord. Brad wastes no time pushing a finger into his mouth and he closes his teeth around it eagerly, biting gently and sliding his tongue along the length.

He realises his mistake only when Brad grips his jaw firmly between thumb and middle finger and says, voice tender, "Yeah, just like that. Good boy," and he moans around the finger in his mouth as it becomes immediately very obvious that it's as much a gag as it is anything else.

Thus gagged, he can’t do anything to protest as Brad’s other hand slides firmly up his chest, rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger to make Taako squeak suddenly around the finger in his mouth. It also comes up to cup his neck briefly; he makes another desperate noise but Brad hums thoughtfully and says, “No, not right now.” Taako considers biting him in rejoinder for the tease but Brad’s hand drifts back down to his thighs, digging the heel of his hand into Taako’s skin as he strokes down towards his knee and back up. His fingers dig in briefly at the hip, pressing hard; a game they’ve long since turned into a habit, something secret and shared like a look no-one else can decode. It shouldn’t be comforting, but it is, and he relaxes minutely despite the dull pain of bruises renewing.

He’s so focused on the feeling on his hip and the slide of Brad’s finger in his mouth that he hasn’t been paying attention to anything he can hear over his own soft, involuntary, pleading noises, but he becomes incrementally aware of Brad’s breathing; it’s even, of course, as always, but it’s - too even. He’s exerting a great degree of self-control to keep it there, Taako realises, and seizes on the knowledge with glee. He moans, loud and low and deliberate, at exactly the right tone to make his teeth vibrate. The small stutter in Brad’s breathing fills him with triumph - briefly, anyway.

“Oh, that’s very clever,” Brad says, close enough for his lips to brush the shell of Taako’s ear. He jolts and moans again, artless this time, as Brad’s spare hand slides around his hip and down to dig his fingers into Taako’s inner thigh. “Spread your legs.” Taako does, unthinking, shivering as Brad scrapes blunt nails across delicate skin.

The finger slides out of his mouth and Taako feels, intently and in a way he'd never have felt if he weren't blind, a string of his own saliva snapping messily back on to his chin, which Brad's thumb slides through in what feels like a briefly affectionate gesture before the hand is withdrawn from his face completely. There's movement behind him, a quiet shuffle, before a finger slides easily inside him and Brad says "You're still so wet from earlier, lovely."

Oh, gods, earlier. When they'd opened the door to the suite and Brad had grabbed him around the waist before he was even three feet into the room and pushed him back up against the wall, lifting him off the floor and fucking him with their clothes still on, Taako's underwear an unfortunate casualty of an extremely impatient orc. It'd been - direct, and he'd been loud, and Brad had clapped a large hand over his mouth halfway through and said “Darling, please, the neighbours have certainly heard you by now,” the words at odds with the smirk on his face.

And yeah, they hadn't - _he_  hadn't exactly done anything about the aftermath except to shed his clothes in the hallway and immediately nab a ludicrously fluffy bathrobe before propping himself up in front of the fire while Brad poured wine and then the situation escalated and now he's here... and the realisation hits him that it was entirely deliberate on Brad's part. He shudders, unbearably turned on by the thought, before saying, "You- you _planned_  that you giant perv-"

"So rude," Brad chides - another cantrip, little more than a tap but he's so sensitive to it after being hit so many times in quick succession that it sparks over his skin like electricity and he tenses around the finger thrusting firmly into him. "I couldn't have planned for you being so _eager_ , could I?" It takes him a second to realise Brad _hasn't_ used a cantrip, such is the impact of the vicious emphasis he puts on 'eager' as he pushes a second finger in alongside the first. The pressure on Taako’s wrists increases for a second but then loosens; he has the barest moment to realise the ties are being unwound before Brad murmurs into his ear, deliberately firing off the nerves again, “Lean forward and keep your hands above your head.”

He does. Slumps, really, and his forehead presses into the rug and his own breath is warm on his face, trapped against the floor. Brad crooks his fingers and Taako wails, turning his head to the side and sliding forward so he can arch his back just a little.

“Well, that’s a pretty sight,” Brad purrs and Taako rubs his face against the carpet, the scratchy-soft drag against his cheek and ear setting his nerves alight. There’s a laugh from behind him, not cruel, but Brad stills his hand and says, amused, “You’re just desperate for any kind of touch right now, aren’t you?”

Taako inhales sharply, moans a short “Yes.”

“You’re so precious when you yield,” Brad says, the fondness in his tone at complete odds with the way the spell knocks the wind out of Taako, and he’s barely drawn in enough air to fuel the long, drawn out whine he makes when he feels Brad’s cock nudge against him, which melts into a wail as he slides home.

Brad grips his hips hard, then, and fucks him with slow, deep strokes, totally at odds with the pace from before. His other hand traces around Taako’s hip and his thumb drags through the slick mess which has been building, unattended, before he strokes his hand along Taako’s cock in time. It intensifies steadily and Taako finds his entire sense of the world is narrowing down to the points where he can feel Brad on him, in him, leaning over him, and he becomes aware by degrees of the soft, panting little whimpers spilling out of him. He tries to strangle them down but Brad just says, “Oh, don’t, you know I _like_ it when you can’t help yourself,” and he must just have hit his stride because this time the magic in the words steals all the air from Taako’s lungs completely and he chokes on nothing as Brad presses his spare hand between Taako’s shoulders and leans over him to say, “The neighbours know anyway,” as he settles into an implacable rhythm which Taako enthusiastically ruts backwards to meet. It’s too much, hearing himself and feeling _everything_ , skin too tight and too thin all at once, so when Brad slides _in_  at just the right angle and strokes just the right side of merciless he makes a high, thin noise at the back of his throat and comes. Brad says, the smile clear in his voice, “Oh, sweetheart, was that too much for you?” It’s no more than a gentle swat but he’s still feeling the aftershocks as Brad picks up the pace, and he’s probably going to have carpet burn on his knees to match the bruises on his hips and he can’t help himself, the thought of that sparking low and hot in his belly and he could probably- if-

Brad moans himself, then, and slides home with force, pulsing. Taako really _feels_  it, focusing on the sensation through the post-coital haze, not at all shameless about the desperate noises he’s making and the fact that he’s clenching as tight as he can against Brad’s cock as he pulls out and cum slides wetly down Taako’s thigh.

The blindfold loosens with a softly-uttered command and Taako rolls onto his side, not bothering to actually open his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Are you all right?” Brad’s tone is completely different. Gentle, quiet.

“Oh, fucking peachy,” he tries to sound casual but it comes out all wrong - thready, fragile. He feels completely off balance and keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to look at Brad’s face in case - well, he doesn’t really know, but he knows he doesn’t want to, so that’s that.

There’s a soft noise - Brad picking up the bathrobe, he figures - before strong arms curl around his back and his knees. “Let’s go try out the enormous bath, shall we?”

Taako makes a small, soft noise of protest. “Can’t move.”

“That’s okay,” Brad says and picks him up. He turns his face into Brad's chest and lets out a long breath, tension slowly starting to unwind from the contact.

In the bathroom he’s bundled efficiently into the bathrobe and propped against the wall next to the bath, staring into the middle distance, vaguely aware of Brad doing running the tub and doing other things but not really paying attention until he slides into the water and beckons for Taako to join him. It smells like lavender. He shucks the bathrobe and leaves it in a puddle on the floor, gingerly testing the water with his toes - hot, but bearable - before settling into the bath where he’s directed, back against Brad’s chest as a solid hand presses in over his heart.

“So. How was that?” Brad murmurs finally, and Taako tips his head back to look at Brad’s face.

“Good. S’good.”

“Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m. Tired,” Taako admits. “Out of it.”

“Vulnerable.”

Taako hums, non-committal.

“I did a number on you, it’s to be expected.”

Taako manages a soft chuckle. “Didn’t say anything you don’t normally say.”

“I don’t normally cast Vicious Mockery at you eight times in a row, though.” He’s smiling slightly as he says, “You did so well letting me do it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taako says, feeling his way back to normal; not quite able to dredge up his normal playful sarcasm but closer to it than before.

Brad laughs and says, “Tip forward and close your eyes.” He does, unthinking, breathing in lavender steam, listening to the water move as Brad - cups it in his hands and lets it pour out over Taako’s head.

He shudders and Brad does it again, and again, until his hair is soaked and dripping down around his face. A soft plasticky noise, big hands sliding gently against his scalp and another smell - mint?

“Are you seriously washing my hair, Bradson?” he mumbles, no bite in it at all, repressing another shudder as all of the remaining tension bleeds out of him, muscles going slack with relief.

“Is that okay?” Brad asks.

“...it’s fine,” Taako tells him, and nudges his head back against Brad’s hands, working in firm circles over his head. He's quiet for a few minutes, letting the careful movement of Brad's hands lull him into a fuzzy stupor, but eventually rouses himself enough to comment, “It’s just really gross and sappy.”

“We’re in the kind of place which sends chocolate coated strawberries up to the room with chilled champagne,” Brad points out, and Taako snorts an undignified laugh.

“Fine, yeah, hair-wash away. Let’s scatter rose petals on the bed later and have sex on them, too.”

“Are you really up for round three?” Brad asks, curiously amused, and Taako groans.

“Gods, no. You’ve ruined me. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Right. Postpone the rose petals until tomorrow.” Taako is fairly sure that he’s joking, but doesn’t have a chance to confirm before Brad says “Tip your head back this time,” and starts rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, a hand cupped over his forehead to stop the suds from getting into his eyes. He goes along with it, compliant, thinking he might regret it later but glad for the moment that he’s not responsible for making any of the decisions.

Brad repeats the process with conditioner, and if he thought he was relaxed before by the end of the second round his limbs feel warm and heavy and liquid, and he could fall asleep if he wouldn’t, you know, drown. He leans back against Brad’s chest and they sit quietly for a minute or two, steam adding to the lethargic haze, before the water starts to slide off into ‘warm’ and then ‘luke-warm’ and finally Brad says, “We better get out before it goes cold.”

Taako climbs out first with a minimum of complaining, but he still doesn’t give the crumpled bathrobe a second glance, preferring instead to towel off and wander back into the room naked, sprawling facedown on the bed with a sigh. He listens absently to Brad tidying the bathroom and cleaning his teeth (which makes him feel bad for a second but not bad enough to move). He tracks the noise of Brad padding back out into the room, banking the fire, dragging heavy velvet drapes across the windows, the small metallic scrape of the wine cap going back onto the bottle. It's almost meditative, concentrating on the soft noises of someone else straightening the room, and he's relaxed enough to barely react when the other side of the bed dips from the pressure of Brad's knee.

He rouses himself enough to mumble, “So, like... we both know I don’t _need_  to sleep, but I’m telling you now, Bradson, I’m planning on passing out for as long as my body sticks with the program, so...”

“That’s okay,” Brad says, the smile in his voice evident. “They’ve got blockout blinds under the drapes,” and he tosses the remote on the bed where it bounces in front of Taako’s face.

He groans appreciatively, cracking an eye and snatching at it, pointing it in the approximate direction of the windows and mashing at the 'CLOSED' button. “Can we order room service breakfast for the latest possible time and stay in bed until it arrives?”

“I’d like nothing better,” Brad tells him, grabbing the folder off the bedside table and flipping it open, “as long as there’s nutella pancakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some anonymous friends on twitter discussed "Vicious Mockery + the over-the-top fluffy aftercare (aka the smutty TAZ concept that might actually end me)" and my name was mentioned and, I mean. Who am I to ignore such a compelling call to action.


End file.
